The Heart of it
by fer1213
Summary: A S7 ficlet that takes place after the ep "First Date". Written as a challenge for the Spuffy ficathon.


A S7 ficlet which takes place a little while after the episode "First Date".  Written as a challenge for the Spuffy ficathon.  Attempts to stay within canon.  

**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to Joss Whedon and ME.  No offense intended by the use of them.

**The Heart of it**

Buffy and Willow sat on the back porch, sharing an orange.  The night sky was clear, the crickets were out in force and ubervamps were plotting to destroy the world.  But for just a little while, Buffy wanted to pretend life was normal.  Or as normal as her life ever got.  And eating fruit with Will was uncomplicated.  Uncomplicated was good.

"So you don't think Wood's going to ask you out again?" Willow asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Buffy shrugged.  "I'm pretty much thinking that ship has sailed."

"And you're okay with that?"

Buffy thought about Spike, sleeping on a cot in the cold basement.  About how he just accepted that she wasn't ready for him to not be here—with her.  "Yes," she said to Willow.  "I'm okay with that."

"About what you said earlier—that everyone thinks your still in love with Spike?  When exactly *were* you in love with Spike?  While you were sleeping with him?"

"Freudian slip," Buffy said.  She split the last orange slice and offered half to Willow.  "It's complicated.  He was always there for me.  I did—do—have feelings for him.  But it was so bad, Will.  The way I used him.  The things we did to each other."

Willow patted her knee gently.  "I have a feeling Spike wasn't complaining too much."

"But he should've been.  And now—with the soul—he can see it for what it was too. I don't know how to get past it all."

"I've often wondered why we haven't talked about this," Willow said.  She popped the last bit of orange into her mouth and linked an arm through Buffy's.  "We used to talk about everything."

"Things changed a lot last year, didn't they?" Buffy said.  "With me being not so dead but wishing I were and with you and the magic-like-crack addiction thingy.  Didn't leave a lot of room for lighthearted girl talk."

They were quiet for a moment, listening to the night around them.  If more potentials kept arriving, they'd have to start pitching tents out here.  Or move them down into the basement and move Spike—where?  Buffy's brain skittered away from the thought of sharing her room with Spike.  So many complications…

"I like him, you know," Willow half-whispered.

"Who?  Principal Wood?" Buffy asked.

"No, Spike.  I like Spike."

Buffy looked at her, surprised.

"You don't have to go all—well, I can't think of a good analogy right now.  I'm sleepy."

"I don't have to go all shocked and Doubting Thomas on you?  Would that work?" Buffy offered.

"In a pinch, that will do."

"But I am.  Shocked and doubting.  Since when do you like Spike?"

"Buffy," Willow said, firmly.  "You'd have to be blind not to see how incredibly devoted he is to you.  He won his soul for you, right?  And even before that, I admired the way he stuck around when you were uh, life-challenged and looked after Dawn. He was a big help patrolling that summer.  And there was really nothing holding him here once you were gone."

"He told me he'd made me a promise."

"See?  That's what I mean.  Even before the soul, you'd changed him somehow—or loving you changed him."

"I had no idea you thought this," Buffy said.

Willow held up her hand.  "Don't get me wrong.  He's still annoying and snarky and can be quite the pain in the butt.  But I've never seen anyone do the things he's done for you."

"He knew it was wrong, you know," Buffy said quietly.  "He knew it right away."

"The bathroom."

Buffy nodded. "The bathroom."

"We've never really talked about that either," Willow said.

"Some things are just too hard to talk about.  You know that yourself."

"Yeah."  Willow's voice was faint.

"So Kennedy?  You?  Horizontally bopping?  Not that I want any details…" Buffy said quickly.

"Me and Kennedy," Willow agreed.

Buffy put her head on Willow's shoulder and let the unsaid things rest between them.

**********

The basement really was cold, Buffy thought as she softly went down the stairs.  Not that Spike would mind, exactly.  His crypt was always cold and kind of damp, so it wasn't like this was a step down for him.

She walked over to his cot.  His left wrist was still shackled and chained to the wall.  His choice.  He didn't know if the First would come and mess with him while he slept.  He said it was safer this way.  Buffy disagreed, but she didn't fight him.  She didn't fight with him much at all anymore, except the side-by-side kind.  

She knelt down next to him and lightly touched his hair.  Crunchy.  She wanted to mess it up, to let loose some of those curls she knew were there.  But she was afraid to wake him.  Afraid of what she might say.

Spike took a deep breath and rolled onto his stomach.  Funny how he did that.  Breathed.  There was so much of him that was still so human.  Buffy shook off her hesitation and stroked his cheek with a knuckle.  She was rewarded with one blue eye opening.

"Hey," she whispered, though they wouldn't disturb anyone down here.

"Hey," he said back.  He sat up suddenly.  "What's wrong?"

Buffy got up off the floor and sat down next to him.  "Nothing.  Sorry to worry you.  I just felt like—being here.  With you."

"With me?" Spike blinked at her.

"Yes," Buffy said simply.

"Huh."

"Is that so strange?" Buffy asked.  "Wait.  Don't answer that."

"I was going to say yes, unless it's for some rough and tumble and I already know *that's* not happening again."

Buffy was silent.

"You got something you want to tell me, Slayer?"

She turned to him and drew a knee up on the bed.  Her fingers were a little shaky as she touched his cheek.  His skin was so smooth—except for the laugh lines around his eyes.  Suddenly she wished they'd laughed more; that she'd been partially responsible for putting those there.  She traced them with her fingertips.  Spike was still beneath her hand, his eyes wide and unblinking.

"I'm glad we got the chip out," she said, still touching him.

Spike closed his eyes.

Buffy touched his lashes.  Girls would kill for those lashes, she thought.  Or at least spend copious amounts of money for them.  Her fingers trailed down his face to rest on his lips.  She pressed lightly and he opened his mouth a little.  She touched his teeth—where his fangs grew when he vamped out.

"Feeling a bit like a horse, here, love," Spike mumbled around her fingers.  "Can I ask what you're doing?"

"Remembering you," she said.

He opened his eyes to look at her.  "Told you I wasn't going anywhere, didn't I?"

"Hmmm," Buffy said noncommittally.  "Not in those words."

Spike wrapped his unchained hand around hers.  "Then I'm saying it now.  I'm not going anywhere, Buffy.  Not as long as you want me around."

"What about what you want, Spike?"  She brought their combined hands down to rest on her bent leg.  "Do you want to stay?  In this house?  With all these girls?  With me?  To face God knows what?"

"Never asked me that before."

"Honestly?  I never cared before."

"And you're saying you do now?"

"I'm saying…  I'm saying, yes.  Now I do."

Spike let go of her hand and pushed himself away from her a little to rest against the cement wall.  "What does that mean?"

Buffy shrugged.  "Introspection girl I'm not.  I just know I once saw you as a, well, necessary evil.  Now I guess I think you're just—necessary.  But I don't want you to stay if that's not what you want too."

Spike looked at his hands, one free, one shackled.  "How could you think I'd want to be anywhere else?"

"We're not good at the straightforward talk, are we?" Buffy asked, smiling a little.

"Not one of our strong points, love."

"So you'll stay?"

"'Til the end."

"Gives me the wiggins when you say that," Buffy said.  She reached for his hand again and gave it a quick squeeze.  She let him go and stood.

Spike quickly stood too and cupped her elbow before she could move out of his range.  "Buffy.  I want you happy.  I like seeing you happy.  If that takes dating the principal, well…"

Buffy's heart actually hurt, seeing him look at her that way.  She wondered if they'd ever be able to say the things they should say to each other.  If there'd be time to say them—if there'd be time to figure out *what* to say.  And she was confusing herself with all the thinking.  _Just feel for a change, Buffy_, she told herself.  "You're the man I need, Spike," she finally said.

He nodded and stepped back from her, wonder on his face.

"Night, Spike," she said.  She went up the stairs.  Before she closed the door she heard "Night, Buffy," and for a moment, she felt hope.

**END**


End file.
